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At home, Harry took a shower, scrubbing himself hard in an attempt to get the events in the parking garage off his mind. Voldemort had saved him. Lord Voldemort, the man he'd put a hit on, who he'd just kissed and beaten because he'd asked for it and because Harry wanted it. That Voldemort. Whose eyes he couldn't get out of his head, whose taste still lingered on Harry's tongue. Voldemort had killed for him, because of him.

"Damn it"

He swiped at the things on his bathroom counter, sending them all crashing to the floor. His worlds were colliding and Harry couldn't stop it.

He ignored Debra's attempts to feed him dinner and locked himself in his office with a twenty-three year old bottle of Scotch. He drank himself numb, losing himself in the phantom sounds of Voldemort taking his pleasure with Harry's belt around his throat. Then that morphed into Voldemort pushing him away from the line of fire. Rushing toward the danger while making sure Harry wasn't anywhere near it.

What the hell had he done? What had he put in motion? His phone rang, jerking his head up and he snatched it up, hoping it was his Godfather,

"Yeah."

"Mr. Potter."

Harry's chest hurt as he blew out a breath.

"V, are you okay?"

"'Fine."

Voldemort paused. He sounded as if he were holding his breath or something.

"You?"

Harry sat upright, slamming down the bottle of Scotch,

"Forget about me. Where are you?"

Voldemort's slurred voice came from the other end,

"Me? On a roof top somewhere."

Harry frowned.

"Why? You sound drunk. Are you drunk?"

Voldemort chuckled.

"Why not? And yes, I'm drunk. High too, although I've had better grades of weed than the one I'm burning right now."

Harry sighed out in exasperation,

"Why are you drunk?"

Voldemort spoke in a matter of fact voice,

"Because of you."

Voldemort paused again and Harry figured he was probably taking a hit off his joint or drinking whatever he was drinking,

"I have to stay high to keep you off my mind."

Harry licked his lips, eyes closing briefly.

"Why, V? Tell me why."

Voldemort snarled,

"Because if you're on my mind, I can't focus. If you're on my mind, I'd be coming for you, chasing you down,"

Harry threw his head back and gazed up at the ceiling. He asked quietly,

"What if I wanted it? What if I wanted you to chase me down, to come find me?"

Voldemort laughed again,

"Ah, but where's the fun in that, Mr. Potter?"

Harry smiled.

"You called me, so am I to assume the self-medicating isn't working quite like you'd hoped?"

Voldemort practically growled,

"You almost got hurt today because of me. You have no idea how angry that makes me."

Harry said firmly.

"It's not your fault. It's not your problem. I don't want you to blame yourself. Promise me you won't."

Voldemort grunted,

"Good night, Mr. Potter."

"Good night, V."

But Voldemort had already hung up.

….

Voldemort hurt. His back. His throat. Everywhere. Every time he moved, his back twinged and he got hard. The good hurt. The sweet pain. He'd needed it, went hunting for it, and Harry had given it to him.

The gunshots that followed in the parking garage had stolen away his bliss. He'd never been so scared, never been so angry. Being shot at was no big deal. Par for the course when doing business like he did business. But Harry getting caught in the middle, now that, that was unacceptable. He'd sighted the lone gunman as he'd jumped into a white paneled van, trying to make his getaway. He wasn't a pro. You'd think the people who wanted him dead would at least chip in and pay for the best. The man had been determined though, his red face wet with sweat as he'd tried to run him down. One bullet through the windshield took care of him.

There'd been no mention of the shooting on the news. Not one word in the newspapers about a body being found in a van in a garage in midtown. Curiouser and curiouser.

Now, though, it was another kind of pain threatening to break him down. They'd burned his building to the ground, trapping three of his workers inside. One got out, but was in the hospital, critical from all the smoke inhalation. Two weren't quite that lucky, dying mere feet from safety. Voldemort had to inform their families and he'd done it with Morfin by his side. The weight of their grief, it staggered him. The censure on their faces, the blame in their eyes, it killed him.

Even though most of the old timers didn't like him, barely cared at all for his leadership, they all looked to him for answers. They all expected him to do something, to reciprocate. He would, no doubt he would, but in his own time and way. He wouldn't allow anyone, not the order or his people, to pressure him into acting before he'd put all the pieces of his plan into place.

The old heads had called him in for a meet, the second time he'd been there since he'd taken over. The first nearly escalated into an all-out brawl when one of those bastards called him a weak pup, wet behind the ears. A bullet in their heads would have been enough to show just how equipped he was to deal with them, but Morfin had stopped him before things got too far.

Voldemort hated those bastards. They refused to move beyond the ways of old, sticking to the same shitty grifts and patterns that had the police always on their backs. They didn't seem to get that the authorities were now aware of their old techniques. They didn't like that Voldemort wanted to get away from the usual way of doing things, bringing London into this damned century. They turned up their noses at his gun running operations, but that alone brought in more money than everything they did. Combined.

"It's been two days," "What do you plan to do?"

Voldemort sat back in his chair and met the eyes of all the men around the table. All colleagues of his grandfather's, all from the old school. They'd fought his entry into the inner circle from the beginning. He was willing to bet his life that they were just waiting for him to mess up before killing him off and putting Morfin in his place. Morfin catered to them, he was the perfect lap dog. Not Voldemort. Never him. He spoke up so everyone could hear him,

"My plans are my own,"

The table erupted in a loud grumble of voices. He drowned them out. Over in the corner, standing by the door, hands clasped in front of him, Morfin scowled at him. Yeah, Voldemort was antagonizing the old fools. He didn't even care.

"We demand to know what will be done to secure justice for our fallen brethren."

Voldemort scoffed at the categorization,

"Your fallen brethren? Do you know their names? Do you know their families, how many children they have, if they do?"

He lifted an eyebrow and waited. Of course, no one spoke up.

"Don't talk to me about fallen brethren. They're my people. They worked for me, not you, and I'll deal with the order the way I see fit. Not the way you want me to. I'd worry about my own house, if I were you."

He got to his feet and marched out amid the spews of curses and threats on his manhood. None he hadn't heard before. Morfin asked as Goyle drove away from the old bar,

"Are you out of your mind? That's not how you win them over to your side."

Voldemort shrugged and pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt a tension headache coming on. The last thing he needed.

"I'm not interested in winning them over to my side, Uncle. That nest of vipers can stay right where they are."

Morfin huffed and shook his head. Goyle asked from the front.

"Where would you like to go, sir?"

Morfin spoke,

"Home."

Voldemort shook his head.

"Take me to the funeral."

One of the fallen men was being buried today. Voldemort needed to be there, to pay his respects. He'd be there tomorrow, when they buried the other man. There'd be more trips to the cemetery before everything was all said and done. And that thought twisted his stomach.

Check out my other fanfic named "Ensnared". It's actually a Harry Potter Version of "The Beauty and the Beast" Let me know what you guys think. Just follow the link below or visit my profile. Looking forward your feedback

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Check out my fanfic named "Elusion". Let me know what you guys think. Just follow the link below or visit my profile. Looking forward your feedback

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If you have the time, then check out my other Harry Potter fanfic labelled "Desperation" Just visit my profile or click on the link below,